


Home for the Holidays

by literaryempress



Series: Max and Isaac's Infinite Storybook [6]
Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Future, Anger, Anger Management, Arguing, Bipolar Disorder, Christmas, Christmas Fluff, Christmas Presents, Crying, Dysfunctional Family, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Family, Family Drama, Family Issues, Father-Son Relationship, Fatherhood, Fights, Future Fic, Gun Violence, Heavy Angst, Holidays, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, M/M, Makeup, Makeup Sex, Men Crying, Surprises, Winter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-21
Updated: 2015-12-25
Packaged: 2018-05-08 06:17:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 18,553
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5486702
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/literaryempress/pseuds/literaryempress
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The holidays aren't so happy under the Gallagher-Milkovich roof as a recent event involving Mickey and the kids prompts Ian to kick Mickey out of the house. When Mickey realizes what he's done, he considers the importance of prioritizing his family and making better choices to cope with his anger. Meanwhile, Isaac and Max are left watching out the frosty window for their father to return home in time for Christmas. However, even with a changed Mickey Milkovich, will Ian invite him back into his and the kids' lives and give their sons the merry Christmas they've been waiting for?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Little Saint Mick

The police station brought many bad memories into Ian’s life. Even if every incident involving a police station didn’t take place at the same one, the general atmosphere made Ian feel really uncomfortable.

Ian remembered one time he was here, but in the holding cell and not in the waiting area. That was one of the worst days of Ian’s life because he couldn’t control the series of events that got him there. Seeing his family and his boyfriend watch him walk out of police custody made Ian feel incredibly guilty. He didn’t want to cause them trouble; the mania he was experiencing had just gotten in the way.

Every other time Ian has been in the police station wasn’t any easier. There were times where Lip got arrested for trespassing, and others where Carl was caught on the street, selling drugs to other minors. Hell, after the latter’s committed crime, Ian hadn’t seen his younger brother in months, and every day he had to figure out what he could do as an older brother to get some sense into his head.

Right now felt like a repeat of his thought process on Carl, except it was targeted at a different person.

This was Ian’s second to last week of work. Awaiting for the go-ahead from his boss to enjoy his holidays, all Ian thought about was relaxing and going home to a nicely-decorated home where his husband and his kids were probably playing around and watching Christmas specials. Relaxing was the last thing Ian thought about when he received a phone call two hours before the end of his work day, letting him know that Mickey was arrested for a certain dispute with an employee at a local corner store. According to what the police told Ian over the phone, he knew who the guy was. They fought and fought with each other in the store for a good few minutes until Mickey pulled his gun, aiming it at the employee’s chest as a warning to not push his buttons for another time. One comeback later, and a bullet escaped the device and into the man’s leg.

And if that wasn’t bad enough, Ian and Mickey’s two kids, Max and Isaac, were standing right behind them, witnessing the whole thing.

From earlier in the day when he was at work, receiving the phone call from the police station, to now, waiting for Mickey and his kids to walk out, Ian had been absolutely livid. One word couldn’t properly sum up how Ian was feeling, yet he displayed the same facial expression he had moments before.

As much as he wanted Mickey to know how he felt, he couldn’t even bring himself to think about talking to him, let alone looking at him.

Ian kept his head down as two figures walked in his direction, one of them dressed in uniform and the other in just a hoodie and some worn jeans. The taller figure had walked away, leaving Ian to forcibly ignore the latter figure’s look on his face.

Mickey looked terrible. His hair was messed up, his face was pale from the realization that his kids had witnessed such chaos, and his eyes, full of guilt and sorrow, were focused on Ian. He had practiced numerous times how he was going to apologize to Ian for what he had done, but the words weren’t coming out the way he wanted them to.

Ian shut his eyes in an attempt to ignore Mickey’s silent pleas, because after reminding himself about what their kids had to go through, he was still in disbelief that his own husband would be involved.

“Ian…” The raven-haired man croaked. Ian will admit that Mickey sounded terrible. He noticed from how weak the older man’s voice was that he had been crying previously. They both hated when the other cried, Ian especially in regards to Mickey. Despite that, though, Ian didn’t move an inch at the way Mickey sounded, not now. He was so mad at him; he couldn’t even be in the same room with him right now.

Seconds later, Mickey was on his knees, one hand on Ian’s shoulder and the other on his lip. “Ian…please look at me.” Mickey pleaded, feeling a pang in his chest and a sting in his eyes that prepared him for the upcoming rejection he was about to experience. “Ian, please, I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry, Ian.”

No response. Ian’s nostrils flared at the mental image of Max and Isaac crying at the sight of Mickey, who was supposed to be their loving father, becoming the man Ian never thought they would see from him. It made Ian sick to his stomach.

Mickey continued to plead, his body trembling violently. “I – It was an accident, okay? It’s just…I –“ Mickey’s voice got caught in the back of his throat for a second. “I was mad, okay? I wasn’t thinking straight. I understand that.” When Ian still didn’t respond, Mickey gripped a little harder on Ian’s right leg. “I would never do this to them. I’m not that kind of person, Ian. You have to believe me.”

Ian really wished he could. He really wanted to believe his husband and his words, because all these years, with the love they have dedicated for each other, why wouldn’t they give in to each other’s trust?

After hearing what happened today, though, Ian felt as if he couldn’t trust Mickey anymore. If Mickey wasn’t that type of person, as he says, then what made him think it was okay to pull a gun out while his kids are only steps away? Hell, why did it make sense to start a fight in a store in the first place?

A couple more seconds passed as Mickey continued to apologize and beg for Ian’s forgiveness, but the latter wasn’t having any of it. It wasn’t until another man in uniform came out with Max and Isaac in tow that Ian actually looked up and acknowledged that someone was walking towards him. He walked past Mickey in an attempt to kneel down and hug both of his boys so tight that they would turn into those Airheads from the commercials he used to watch when he was a kid.

Ian couldn’t cry, not just yet. Combined with the anger he was feeling towards Mickey, Ian also held in the least bit of strength he could for his little boys. He didn’t want them to see their father cry; he wanted to be there for them and let them know they were alright.

Behind him, Mickey’s shoulders had slumped in defeat at the sight of the group hug that was shared between Ian, Isaac, and Max. The three of him were his world, and Mickey wasn’t sure how he was gonna last knowing that neither one of them said a word to him. He felt greatly terrible about all of this.

Ian released Max from his hold in favor of picking Isaac up and holding him in his arms, allowing the little boy to rest his head on his father’s shoulder. While Ian bounced Isaac in his arms, snuggling his nose into his dark hair, Max timidly looked up at the discouraged look on Mickey’s face.

Mickey knelt down, holding his arms out and beckoning Max to walk over towards him. “Max,” he pleaded, barely louder than a whisper. He wanted one of his boys to understand how awful he felt for doing that to them. Mickey was responsible for putting that look on Max’s face – one of fear, anguish, disappointment, and uncertainty. Mickey never thought he would see the day that he would do that to him.

“Max.” Ian sternly spoke for the first time since he saw Mickey and the kids. His hand was extended downward, and Max took it, trying his best to ignore the squeeze Ian put in the hold as he brought the kids towards the exit. When Max looked back, Mickey was following them, albeit at a distance so Mickey won’t annoy or upset anyone, particularly Ian.

The four of them made it to the station’s parking lot where the family car was parked. Mickey got in the passenger’s seat while Ian buckled Isaac up in the back. Once everyone was inside, Ian got in the driver’s seat, putting on his seat belt and turning on the ignition to drive his family back home.

* * *

The ride home was just as bad as the release from the station. Mickey hated this kind of silence, the kind where Ian was so excruciatingly mad that he could throw his shoe at a window and it could end up in the owner’s backyard or some twisted shit. Isaac and Max recognized the tension in the car as well, yet neither one of them decided to act on it. Instead, they just played with a couple of toys they left in the back seat. Only the sounds of Max’s pretend laser noises while he played with his action figure kept Mickey sane.

Mickey gulped as he turned his head towards Ian. His eyes were almost too focused on the road as he made his way to their home. He didn’t even acknowledge the fact that Mickey was looking at him, which made Mickey worried as hell. There were rare times when Ian would do that, and whenever they happened, Mickey only anticipated the thoughts that were spinning in Ian’s head.

Around fifteen minutes later, the car stopped in front of the garage door, and the ignition was turned off. Ian was the first to jump out of the car, still ignoring Mickey’s silent pleas of forgiveness as he unbuckled Isaac from his baby seat. Max got out of the car a moment after, followed by Mickey, who lingered back a bit to get a better look at his boys.

They all didn’t look so good.

Once everyone was out of the car, Ian led them into the house. Mickey really wanted to say something to Ian, to at least get some kind of response out of him. He didn’t know what could accomplish that. With every step of Ian’s feet, he chose to not look in Mickey’s direction and paid more attention to literally everything and anything around him. This was bad.

Ian turned his head towards Max, who was deciding internally on whether he should talk to Mickey or try to calm Ian down a bit. “Max, can you come with Daddy for a minute?” Ian whispered as if Mickey wasn’t in the room. The fact that Max actually left Mickey alone in the living room was worse. Mickey felt segregated from his own family, and it hurts like hell.

Max entered Isaac’s room, where Ian was getting Isaac out of his coat and Captain America hat with the matching scarf. “I want you two to play in here for a while, okay?” Ian asked Isaac and Max as calmly as possible. Ian did everything to prevent himself from exploding, but the effort was harder than it seemed. “I’m gonna talk to your father out in the other room. I don’t want you two paying too much attention. This is grown-up business.”

The two boys innocently eyed their father, overcome with worry and sadness. They knew very well that their fathers were fighting with each other – or, at least, building up to it – and Ian knew about the stories where children witnessed fights between parents. Being that his parents are Frank and Monica Gallagher, Ian was especially no stranger to that.

However, Ian didn’t want his and Mickey’s relationship to be like Frank and Monica’s. They were completely different. Ian was the unlucky one of the Gallaghers to get diagnosed with the same disorder as his mother, but that didn’t mean they were exactly the same. Ian was willing to do anything to not only keep himself and his own life stable, but to stabilize his relationship with Mickey and his sons. Even if Mickey didn’t make the right decisions, he gave a shit about his kids – that’s what Ian hoped anyway, especially considering that said kids were both witnesses to an almost murder before their virgin eyes.

“Are you okay, Dad?” Max broke the silence, hugging himself and digging his fingernails in his arms out of nervousness.

Ian nodded, though it didn’t seem convincing. “I’m fine, son. Okay? I just need you to focus on something else while Papa and I sort some stuff out.” Without another word to the kids, Ian walked towards the entrance of the bedroom, letting himself out before closing it behind him, leaving Isaac and Max to look at each other, awaiting the downfall that would occur out there in the living room.

Ian and Mickey were alone in the living room, Mickey looking over at the redhead, and Ian directing his eyes towards the coat rack on the other side of the room. He made a beeline towards it, taking his own coat off and placing it on the highest bar.

While he did so, Mickey made another attempt to try and speak to Ian. “Ian, I know you’re upset with me right now, and y-you have the right to be –“

“Upset is an understatement.” Ian mumbled under his breath as he got the scarf from around his neck.

Mickey gulped. He didn’t remember the last time Ian’s voice had gotten so low with him specifically. With people at Ian’s work or at the kids’ school, sure; however, Ian and Mickey have been on the same page for years. They can’t be struggling now.

“Ian, I am so sorry,” Mickey told Ian, who managed to walk past his husband in favor of grabbing a glass of water from the kitchen. Mickey just so happened to be on his toes. “I-It’s just that this guy has been trying to fucking get in my head for years, and Dad always told me to watch out for him and his family after a deal gone wrong. I – I wasn’t doing it just for Dad and my brothers; I was doing it because he literally threatened to out me before you got me to. He was fucking ready to treat me like shit and bash me the moment it got out, Ian. A-and I didn’t mean to scare the kids –“

Once Ian had his glass of water in his right hand, he whirled around facing Mickey. The two were only four inches away from each other, and yet, Mickey still felt claustrophobic with all of the tension in the room. “Then why did you do it, Mickey?” Ian asked all of a sudden, his voice rising a bit. “Why the fuck did you let some fucking prick from your past try to distract you from what’s important? Why the fuck do you insist on using violence as an answer to every fucking thing? Why the fuck do you have a gun around a seven- and a four-year-old? Where the fuck did you even get it from?”

Mickey held up both of his hands in surrender, hoping that Ian would at least listen to him for a minute. “I got the gun from Colin a while ago,” he answered. “I wanted to have one on me just in case we were in danger. We almost got robbed here once, Ian. You remember that –“

“Yeah, but you using the gun this time around had fuck all to do with a goddamn _house_ robbery, Mickey!”

“I’m thinking about you guys, okay? Anything can happen down here. We could be at the corner of a street with a rapist getting ready to kidnap our kids. I just wanted to be prepared –“

Ian shook his head. “No. No, fuck that.”

“Ian –“

“Fuck your being prepared bullshit,” Ian replied, venom apparent in his voice. “The only thing you were preparing yourself for was a goddamn fight with a store employee over some petty shit that happened when you were a teenager – a _fucking_ teenager!”

“Well, what the fuck did you expect me to do, tell someone about it like I’m in elementary school or some shit?”

“Be the bigger fucking man and walk away!” Ian yelled, causing an instantaneous silence to overcome the couple for a good ten seconds. “What the fuck are you trying to prove? Everyone knows who the fuck you are, Mickey. They recognize the same little boy who used to carry a goddamn baseball bat around the neighborhood as he walked beside his oh-so-dedicated father –“

“Fuck you!” Mickey yelled back.

Ian chuckled, surprising himself a bit. “Kinda did that already, don’t you think?”

Another silence. Ian drank some of the water in his glass, and Mickey just sighed. Arguing with Ian was the last thing he planned on doing with him today, but there was no other way around it. Mickey wanted to make it better, make Ian understand how sorry he is and how he wants to change, but Ian just wasn’t having it no matter how true it was.

“Please just forgive me, Ian.” Mickey begged once again. “I’ve been apologizing to you for as long as I could. I just want you two to know how much I care about –“

“If you cared about me…” Ian interrupted him with a tone Mickey didn’t seem to recognize. He took a couple of steps forward towards Mickey’s personal space. “If you _really_ fucking cared about me – about your kids –“

Ian stopped in the middle of his sentence, trying to calm himself down by pinching the bridge of his nose. Mickey bit his bottom lip at the sight of the obvious stress shown across Ian’s entire face. Seconds passed, and Mickey watched as Ian shook his head in defeat. “Fuck it.” Ian spoke mainly to himself, walking past Mickey only to stop in front of the couch in the living room. His back was now to Mickey as he drank the remaining drops of water in his glass.

The next couple of words that came out of Ian’s mouth after those agonizing twenty seconds surprised Mickey the most. “Your stuff is packed in a bag in front of the bed.”

Mickey was frozen in time. Ian was really doing this; he was kicking him out.

For a moment, Mickey almost couldn’t comprehend what was happening, but he managed to get some words out. “Ian, you don’t mean –“

“I mean it.” Ian responded in a flash, turning his head back towards Mickey. No signs of emotions appeared in Ian’s face, and Mickey was starting to feel a little scared for what was going on. “I want you to take your stuff and get out.” The force of the beats of Mickey’s heart intensified at Ian’s words. “I don’t want you to call. I don’t want you to come back here.”

Mickey stuttered for a brief moment. “I-Ian, please, you can’t –“

“I can and I have,” was all Ian said. He didn’t even argue with Mickey about it. Ian’s calm tone was driving Mickey nuts.

“B-But –“

“I don’t have time for this, Mickey. It’s clear that you’ve made your choice, and now I’m making mine.” Ian added with a shrug.

The lump in Mickey’s throat seemed to get a little bigger, if that was even humanely possible. Mickey was actually getting kicked out of the house – _their_ house. The same house that the couple and their kids have been living in for years…

Oh God, what about Mickey’s kids? He loved his kids. This can’t be the last day he would get to see them.

“N-No, Ian – we can work this out,” Mickey begged, clasping his hands together and feeling the sting in the back of his eyes. “I – I’m gonna change, Ian, alright? I’m gonna be better. I know I can do it. I _wanna_ do it. I wanna do it for you, for Isaac and Max –“ Mickey caught himself breathing heavily at the thought of being separated from his kids, nearly cursing himself out for even letting all of this shit happen. “Our kids, Ian. I want to see my kids –“

“No.” Ian crossed his arms in front of his chest, not affected once by Mickey’s cries. “They’re my kids.”

The implication of Ian wanting to not only leave Mickey but get him separated from his kids crushed Mickey’s entire world to bits. This wasn’t happening. Mickey promised to do better, and damn it, send him to hell if he can’t. Ian wanting Mickey out of the house in the first place was already bad for him; he can’t keep his kids – Mickey’s baby, Isaac – away from their father.

Mickey slowly shook his head, a tear falling down his left cheek. “Ian…” The redhead didn’t say anything. “Just – just let me see them, please? I want to see them, Ian. I can’t stand being without my sons. I – I just…” Mickey continued to internally panic. “And Isaac, Ian – he’s my blood. I need him to –“

“Blood doesn’t have to mean shit, Mickey.” Ian responded, his voice rising again. “Compassion. Protection. Comfort. Love. That’s the shit that matters. You could have been the one to biologically have Max as a son, too, but you and I know damn well after tonight that you wouldn’t qualify to protect neither him nor Isaac as much as I thought you would.”

“I didn’t hurt them, Ian. They’re safe. I just –“

“That doesn’t fucking matter!” Ian shouted, tossing his glass down on the hardwood floor and making it shatter. Mickey could see how red Ian’s eyes were and how a thick layer of tears were covering his eyeballs. “They’re not in a safe environment, Mickey, whether you were aiming at gun at them or not. And even if you weren’t intending on aiming the gun at them, what if they just so happen to get hit? Imagine them standing behind the guy you were fucking arguing with, and you end up shooting Max in the forehead. I swear to God, Mickey, you think I’m upset now, but if that fucking happened to my little boy –“

Mickey gulped again. His entire body was shaking at the sight of his husband going off at him. He wanted to calm him down, turn everything around back to what it was before all of this happened. He wanted his stupidly happy redhead back. “Ian, I know. I –“

Ian slapped Mickey’s arm away the moment he saw the shorter man take a step towards him. “Don’t fucking touch me,” he spoke with a deeper register than before.

“Please, Ian –“

A sharp inhale and exhale escaped Ian’s nostrils for a good three seconds each, prompting Mickey to seal his lips closed. “I want you to get out of my house.”

Another tear fell from Mickey’s face. “Ian –“

“Get your stuff out of the room and get out.”

Two more tears arrived after that. “I’m so sorry, Ian –“

Ian looked up at Mickey’s face, maintaining a hard exterior even with reddened eyes matching his husband’s. “Get the fuck out, Mickey.” When Ian didn’t receive another reply from Mickey, Ian added, “and don’t fucking come back.”

A whole stream of tears were now staining Mickey’s cheeks as he stood still and processed what all just happened. Ian didn’t want Mickey to come back to the house anymore, meaning that he won’t be able to see him or his kids ever again, unless Ian eases up a bit sometime later on and invites Mickey back to the house. However, judging by the anger shown in Ian’s features, it doesn’t look like that opportunity will come too soon.

Mickey was so stuck in time, devastated about what was going on, that he flinched hard when Ian yelled at him again. “Get out!” Ian’s voice echoed throughout the living room, and the two of them could have sworn that Max and Isaac heard them. For his and the kids’ sake, Ian hoped they didn’t.

A second later, Mickey slowly started backing towards their bedroom – or Ian’s bedroom, for the time being – and Ian gave him one last angry look before turning back towards the kitchen to clean up the mess he made. With a broom and a dust pan in handy, he returned to the living room by the broken glass on the floor. From the corner of his eye, he could see Isaac leaving his room, and that was Ian’s cue to put everything down and head over to his son.

Isaac stood in front of the opened bedroom door, curious and worried about Mickey’s current form. He had fallen to his knees in front of the foot of the bed, covering his face with his arms and sobbing hysterically. His face was so red that Isaac could have sworn that something was physically wrong with him.

“Papa?” Isaac called for Mickey, who still continued to cry and did not acknowledge his son in the doorway.

Ian made his way beside Isaac, picking him up off the floor. He adjusted him on his hip while closing the door almost all the way so Isaac wouldn’t have to see how much of a mess his father was. “Hey baby, what are you doing out of your room?” Ian asked softly, moving some of Isaac’s black hair off his forehead to get a better look at his baby blue eyes.

“I had to go potty,” Isaac stated, “and then I saw Papa.”

Ian felt awful that Isaac had to witness this happening to both of his fathers. He was only so young and innocent. Seeing his dad crying his eyes out raised so many questions, and Ian wasn’t sure if he could answer them all in a way that Isaac would understand.

With a sigh, Ian walked the little boy to the bathroom down the hall. “Alright, you go potty really quick, okay?” Ian told him. “But you can’t go in the living room just yet. Daddy dropped something by accident, and he doesn’t want you getting hurt.” Well, the fact that the glass dropped was a lie, but he would rather lie to him than get shards of glass stuck in his feet.

“Okay,” Isaac answered, and Ian placed him back on the floor, shutting the bathroom door to give his son some privacy.

When he turned around, the door to his and Mickey’s bedroom was still partially closed, meaning that Mickey hadn’t left yet. Ian wanted Mickey gone before Max and Isaac suspected anything.

About a second and a half later, Mickey was out of the bedroom with his things. He sadly looked in Ian’s direction, and Ian just glared back with his arms folded in front of his chest. Mickey decided not to anger him any further and just slowly walked to the front door and out of the house. When Ian was certain that Mickey was gone, he walked to the front door and locked it shut.

* * *

Mickey had wiped all of his tears off his face in time before any of the passengers aboard the CTA trains suspected anything. He was upset about the outcome of his and Ian’s argument, sure; however, to the rest of the world, he didn’t want to look weak. After all, no matter how much he melted within the circle he shared with Ian and his kids, he was still a Milkovich, and no one had better forget that.

Still, Mickey didn’t like how things were going. Ian kicked him out of the house and prevented his kids from seeing him. It’s like he was murdered twice in one day, and Mickey’s swollen heart couldn’t take it all.

About thirty minutes later, Mickey arrived at his stop, taking everything he had with him and carrying it all through the neighborhood until he found the place he was looking for. He only knew one person who would take him in when he didn’t have a place to stay, and he thanked every and any God out there that she existed.

Mickey walked up to the gray building to his left and rang the fourth doorbell. Albeit loud as hell, a female voice rang through Mickey’s ears moments after. “Who is it?”

“Mandy, it’s me.” Mickey didn’t have it in him to yell; he had done enough of that with Ian, and even after he cooled down for a while, he was still emotionally hurting.

The door buzzed, and Mickey walked through the entrance, taking his things up to the second floor until he found Mandy’s apartment door. Before he had the chance to knock, Mandy had opened the door for him, looking at her brother up and down for a good five seconds as if she’s trying to place her finger on the situation.

Luckily, she didn’t have to do a thing. “Can I crash here, Mands?”

“Mickey, what happened?”

Mickey gulped once again and sadly stared into her sister’s eyes. Mandy started showing signs of concern when Mickey’s chin started to tremble. “Ian kicked me out.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wanted to take a break from my other two WIPs to write something for the holidays for you guys. LOL this might be a sucky story, though, because a) I waited to write it at the last minute, and b) it's sad as hell for no reason (sorry). But things will get better, trust me. :)


	2. Blue Christmas

_I made a mistake, Mands. I made a terrible mistake_.

It had been two days since a teary-eyed Mickey Milkovich arrived at his sister’s apartment building with all of his clothes and belongings – well, the ones Ian could manage to pack away for him anyways. The moment he walked in and placed all of his stuff down, he told Mandy everything. He told her about the fucker he encountered at the store. He told her about the period of time before Mickey came out of the closet, expressing to her how worried he was when the guy said he would let the world know about “the rainbow convention’s son” on the South Side of Chicago. Mickey told her about how he lashed his anger out on him by taking the gun out of his pocket and shooting a bullet at the guy’s leg. He told her about the cops coming to arrest him after witnesses observed the scene of the crime.

 _I want to change. I told Ian that I want to change. I made a promise, Mandy. I have to do it – for him and my kids_.

Mickey continued on, telling her about the scared looks on Max and Isaac’s faces when he saw them standing there behind him. He told Mandy about the frightened look on Isaac’s face after the bullet was released from the device. He told her about how, when he was bailed out, Ian didn’t say a word to him, even with all of the apologies he gave him. He told her about how Ian just ignored Mickey to hug the kids, wanting to be certain that they were okay and free of any injuries.

 _They’re my world. I just – I don’t know what the fuck I’m gonna do without them. I need them. Ian and I, we’ve been on this ride for fucking years. I don’t wanna get off, especially when Max and Isaac are on with us_. Mickey let out a shaky exhale at the thought of the family he felt like he was losing. _They’re my everything, Mandy. Ian’s my rock, and I miss my sons. I’ve let them down, and I want to fix everything_.

The memory of the past hour or so was especially fresh in Mickey’s mind, though he seemed pretty dazed through most of it. This wasn’t the Ian Gallagher Mickey has grown to love so much. He didn’t yell or throw glass on the ground; he was always happy and trying to motivate other people to do good things.

Then again, how easy can that be when your sons could have been a part of the most tragic moment of your life?

Ian didn’t want to see Mickey again. Ian didn’t want Mickey to come by the house again. Ian didn’t want to call him again. And with all of this, it most likely meant that he would never see his kids again, not even for the holidays. Mickey wasn’t usually a holiday type of person in the first place, but after getting used to being with Ian and having kids with him, he was starting to love the company around the holidays. Now that Ian was livid with him, Mickey can’t even be in the same room with him and the kids.

The kids. Ian’s kids. Mickey’s kids. _Their_ kids.

The evening Mickey came to Mandy for help on what he should do, Mandy did everything in her power to be a good younger sister and comfort Mickey as much as possible. Just because he wasn’t with Ian and his sons didn’t mean he didn’t have family who would wanna be with him right now. She and Mickey were quiet for most of the night after Mickey spent a good thirty minutes getting all of his tears and emotions out to her. He had fallen asleep on the couch that night, and while Mandy had a spare bed for her brother to rest his head, she didn’t want to wake him and disturb his sleep.

The day following Mickey’s visit, Mandy had made some pancakes and eggs for the two of them. The smell of pancake mix and syrup woke Mickey up right away, causing his stomach to growl in the process. The two Milkovich siblings ate in silence, Mandy well aware that Mickey was still a bit depressed about what happened the previous night.

Later in the day, though, Mandy brought Mickey’s attention towards her laptop, where a web page was open on an anger management site.

“The hell is this?” Mickey asked, rounding the table to stand behind his sister as she looked up any necessary information she could find.

Her eyes didn’t move from the screen when she responded to her brother. “I found an anger management session online and was looking into signing you up.”

Mickey furrowed his eyebrows. “What, you mean like taking a class?”

“It’s not like school, Mick. You don’t have to take a shit ton of irrelevant classes each day.”

“That’s what you’re making this sound like.” Mandy just looked away and sighed. “Why the fuck do I need to learn how to turn myself into some happy-go-lucky fucker anyway?” Mickey added.

His sister’s head turned back around to face him, deadpanning into his eyes. “Mick, that’s not what they’re for.” When Mickey didn’t ask another question, Mandy just adjusted herself in her seat so her whole body was facing him. “These anger management classes are supposed to help you cope when you get angry or upset. You know, find other ways to resolve your anger.”

“And you honestly think paying sixty dollars for it is even worth it?” Mickey asked, gesturing towards the laptop screen where the price was plastered on the middle of the screen.

Mandy shrugged. “If you want me to find a free one, fine by me,” she replied, “but either way, it would help solve your problem with Ian and the kids.”

Mickey sighed before he walked over to the couch and sat down, looking down at his feet and thinking deeply. Mandy observed Mickey’s form from where she sat. She didn’t like looking at her brother like that. He usually kept himself together in situations like this. Mandy wanted to help him, but him being stubborn with the options she was giving him wasn’t helping in the slightest. Mickey had to cooperate just once.

She watched as Mickey opened up a can of beer for himself before joining him on the couch. “You have to admit that you have a problem, Mickey,” Mandy spoke, trying to grab his attention. “That’s how all of this shit starts.”

Mickey scoffed. “You trying to be my mother now?” he mumbled, taking a sip from the can.

Suddenly, he was being met with a slap in the back of the head. Mandy didn’t even falter when Mickey complained from the force of the slap. “I’m fucking serious, Mick,” Mandy responded with a frown. Mickey continued to rub the back of his head. “Ian’s not gonna know if you really changed if you’re just lounging around at my apartment and drinking beer all of the time.” Her eyebrows shot up her forehead as-a-matter-of-factly, gesturing towards Mickey’s beer can. “If anything, that’ll just make it worse.”

Mickey shot her a confused look. “The fuck are you on about?” he asked. “I’ve been drinking in the house with the kids around since they came out of their mother’s fuckin’ womb.”

“But that’s not a useful coping skill for your anger.”

“Oh, God. There you go with the damn coping skills shit.” Mickey rolled his eyes.

Mandy sighed, exasperated with the arguing she already has to put up with. She looked away from Mickey for a moment, trying to process some thoughts in her head before turning back to her brother.

“You know how things got worse in our house after mom died?” Mandy started, waiting for a response from Mickey. When one didn’t come, she elaborated for him. “Dad continued to get drunk and smoke, sell drugs, beat his own kids –“

“Oh Jesus,” Mickey complained sarcastically, “we’re going down memory lane.”

“I was cleaning your blood and healing your bruises after you finished mine,” Mandy continued, “and I had asked you when we were going to move out of this house and away from Dad. Do you remember what you said to me?”

Mickey bit the inside of his cheek, bringing his head space back to the day when his fifteen-year-old self was looking up at his younger sister with a swollen, black eye. Mickey remembered that day all too well. Terry had gotten kicked out of the Alibi Room that day when he started a fight with one of the other patrons inside, and when he believed that it wasn’t enough, he came home, about eight to ten glasses of beer in his system, and began punching and hitting on Mandy. Of course Mickey came along to defend his sister, although he had to face consequences in return.

Mickey and Mandy hated living with their dad. Other than probably bin Laden and Donald Trump, he was the worst person to walk on the face of the earth. They should probably feel guilty just a bit for thinking that a couple of years after Terry’s death from alcohol poisoning, but this was karma for abusing the people that he was supposed to love and hold dear to his heart.

But it’s not like Terry Milkovich had a heart anyway.

“I said I wanted to get us out of that house,” Mickey responded a moment later.

“Exactly,” Mandy replied, “and then you literally collected pocket change, went on runs with our brothers, and did a whole bunch of other shit to put some money away for us on the side. And after you came out to everyone, you wanna know what happened then?”

Mickey thought about it long and hard. He and Ian had a conversation about leaving the South Side at one point, from what Mickey could remember. Ian made him realize how many bad memories were in the Milkovich house and that Mickey could do better things outside of it. Unfortunately, for Mickey, he wasn’t really too far from the South Side, but he was definitely out of the old house – and in a new one with his husband and two kids.

“Ian wanted us to move out so we wouldn’t have to see Dad again whenever he got released.” Mickey paused. “And then we started getting little jobs and shit.”

“Right,” Mandy said. “It’s always been tossed around that we should get out of the house and leave our past behind. We’ve been consistent with wanting to achieve that goal, and you know what? We actually did it. You and Ian have your own house, and I have an apartment to myself.” She paused. “It’s not as warm as your place, but…”

Mickey chuckled. “You always get the cheap scraps, don’t ya?”

The two Milkoviches laughed for a few moments before they calmed themselves down, looking each other in the eye. It was the most genuine look they gave each other in a while. Hell, right now felt like the realest sibling interaction they’ve ever had. Mickey wouldn’t know what to do without his sister.

“I really hope you’re getting my point, Mick,” Mandy continued, “because I actually want you and Ian to work things out. If we were able to say, over and over, that we wanted to get out of Dad’s house and live on our own and actually achieved that, then you can keep talking about how you want to do right by Ian and the kids and take the step towards making that promise.”

Mandy was right. It’s been a while since Mickey really took in the fact that he was officially away from his deadbeat father and in a new life story with Ian and the kids. Mickey never really believed himself before, yet here he was. The old Mickey Milkovich probably would have felt like complete shit for not taking Mandy’s words into consideration like the new one did.

With a couple of nods, Mickey turned back to his sister. “I love my kids, Mandy. I love Ian.” A beat later, he added, “I love all of them.”

“Then prove it. Show them you’ve changed. It’ll take a while, but it can be done.” Once she received the okay from her brother, she got up off the couch to retrieve the laptop she abandoned on the table. Mickey watched as she plopped back down and unlocked the screen, searching for one of the free anger management sessions instead of the ones that wanted money. “I’m gonna need you to make up a username for me.”

Mickey took the laptop away from her and typed the information into the boxes on the screen. He was really gonna do this.

* * *

A couple of weeks had passed since Ian and Mickey’s fight. There were two days until Christmas, yet the Gallagher-Milkovich house wasn’t all that cheerful.

Ian was still angry about what Mickey did, and Max and Isaac eventually found out about it. Max didn’t give off much of a reaction, but he still closed himself off from everyone he interacted with on the regular. At one point, Ian wanted to take the kids to Navy Pier for Winter Wonderfest, but Max surprised him by saying he didn’t want to go.

Isaac was much worse. Ever since Ian told the kids that Mickey left the house, Isaac would constantly cry and beg Ian to bring his father back. As much as it broke Ian’s heart to see his toddler son wet his face literally every other day, he didn’t budge on the situation at hand.

Ian loved his kids; he wasn’t going to deny that one bit. However, with all of the taxes he had to pay for the house and any other necessary tasks that needed to be done, he couldn’t concentrate on anything with Isaac pulling on his shirt sleeve, begging him to play with him or to find Mickey so the two could talk with each other.

Speaking of Mickey, Ian’s voice message box had been filled for a whole week, and every message minus one from Fiona about the Gallagher family Christmas dinner was from Mickey. Of course, Ian couldn’t bring himself to listen to any of them, so he just deleted all of them and carried on with his business. A part of him felt completely bad for doing that, but he couldn’t forgive him just yet.

Fiona had decorated the old Gallagher house with Christmas lights, stockings, and other Christmas decorations before she invited her siblings and Kev and Vee over for dinner. Ian missed seeing everyone, and he was glad that they were all meeting up together for a festive evening in a warm house.

When Ian and the kids arrived, Lip and Debbie, along with Liam, were already there. Lip had gotten married to a blonde girl he met in college, and Debbie was going steady with her boyfriend. There were rumors that Debbie was having a baby sometime in August, but no one really knew how true it really was. Ian suspected that Debbie was keeping it a secret.

Carl, Kev, and Vee came around about thirty minutes after Ian did. The Ball-Fishers brought their twins, Amy and Gemma, and Carl came accompanied with his girlfriend of three months. Even though she wasn’t really close to anyone other than Carl, Carl insisted on bringing her since her father was dead and her mother didn’t have plans for the holidays.

At one point during the house party, Isaac was on the couch watching Kev and Debbie on the floor in front of him play with the babies in their carriers, and he started to cry. He wasn’t loud or anything; he just allowed tears to fall down his cheeks, remembering that his father wasn’t here to play with him like Kev was for Amy and Gemma.

“Hey, sweet pea.” Fiona cooed, kneeling down so she could get a better look at Isaac’s face. “Are you okay? Is something wrong?”

Isaac sniffled. “I wanna see Papa.”

Fiona knew what he was talking about. Ian had filled her in on what happened the day Ian had to pick Mickey and the kids up from the police station, followed by Ian kicking Mickey out of the house. A part of her wanted to call and invite Mickey over, but this was his and Ian’s problem, and she had no right to make decisions for her brother or his husband.

“He’s probably just hanging out with some other family members,” Fiona attempted to cheer him up, though she knew it wouldn’t work too well. “You’ll get to see him again. I know it.”

Isaac wanted to believe the words she was saying, but it was easier to want than to actually do. “I wanna see him now,” he cried, more tears falling down his face. A sniffle later, and Fiona was already feeling terrible about what’s going on. “I want him to come back home so we can make Christmas cookies and make sure the monsters don’t come under my bed again.”

Fiona sighed, watching as the raven-haired boy continued to cry in front of her. She grabbed him under the arms and picked him up, rubbing his back for comfort. Kev and Debbie had eventually caught onto what was going on, but they didn’t raise too many questions about it.

Ian and Lip were in the kitchen, seated at the table and catching up with each other when they both saw Fiona walk in with Isaac in her arms. Ian sighed at the sight of them by the archway of the kitchen. Fiona’s hand was in Isaac’s hair, rubbing the back of his head as he sobbed on her shoulder.

“Ian, we need to talk,” Fiona told Ian, stepping over by the washer and dryer. When Ian made his way over to her, Fiona began to whisper. “You need to do something about Mickey.”

“I told you I’m not talking to him.”

“You’re gonna have to eventually,” Fiona argued. “His baby boy is over here crying out every bit of water in his system because his father isn’t here to celebrate the holidays with him. And it’s not like Max is any better, either.”

“Max is fine.”

“No, he’s not. He’s just as upset about this as Isaac is; he just doesn’t voice it too much.” Fiona adjusted Isaac in her arms for a second before speaking again, catching a glimpse of Ian rolling his eyes. “I’m not asking you to get back with Mickey right away. I’m saying at least let the little ones see their other father, even for a second, and they’ll leave you alone.”

Ian shrugged. “And who exactly is gonna take them then?”

“Ian –“

“Had Mickey actually had his brain turned on, and we wouldn’t be in this situation –“

“He’s your husband, Ian.” Fiona interrupted, keeping her hand on the back of Isaac’s head. “I know you’re mad at him, and you have the right to be, but you’ve gotta admit that you’re being a little harsh on him.”

Ian chuckled, pacing in the little area around him and running his fingers through his red hair. “Nah, I think pulling a gun out on an employee is worse.”

“Mickey did a terrible thing, and I would be mad at him for that, too,” Fiona explained, “but I know deep down that you love him. I know how much you do, Ian. You think I haven’t seen you two sneak looks at each other and getting closer together with every passing second?” Ian was about to speak, but Fiona immediately cut him off. “And you two have been through so many obstacles – Mickey’s dad, Mickey coming out, your diagnosis –“

For once, Ian didn’t make a move to say anything. He just put his hands in his pocket, casting a look down at his feet with so much guilt. All of those things he said to and about Mickey, he shouldn’t have done that. Ian fell in love with that man over the course of the years they’ve been together. They had their own family away from their families. They had a good life going here, and Ian didn’t want that to be ruined. Not to mention that Ian would sometimes cry at the thought of putting his teary-eyed little boys to bed.

“You can work this out, Ian. It’s definitely doable.” Fiona persuaded him, placing her hand on Ian’s shoulder. “Isaac and Max, they love you with all of their hearts, but a piece of them is missing without Mickey around. It’s almost Christmas. Just let them spend time with him for a while.”

Ian sighed, allowing Fiona’s words to swim through his head. She had a point, and Ian really wanted all of this to work out between him and Mickey. However, he wasn’t sure how honest Mickey really was when he said that he would change for him and the kids. His eyes and body language were saying it, but his mind could very well tell a different story.

“I…I’m just not ready yet, Fiona.” Ian replied, his shoulders slumping. He bit his bottom lip and looked away from his older sister. “I feel like I need more time to think about it.”

Fiona nodded, wrapping her arm around her little brother and embracing him in a hug. They stood like that for about a couple of seconds before Fiona let Ian go and carried Isaac all the way over to the counter. When she got there, she got a good look at Isaac’s wet face. He wasn’t crying as much as he was minutes ago, but the pain was still there.

“Hey, sweetie,” Fiona spoke in a soft, quiet voice, and Isaac looked up at her aunt. “I have an idea. You and Max can help me make Christmas cookies, and maybe I can get in touch with Auntie Mandy and see if she can get you to your dad. Sound good?”

Isaac sniffled and looked up with bright, hopeful eyes. “Really?”

Fiona nodded. “I’ll go get the cookie dough, and you can go wash your hands so we can get started.”

* * *

While Mickey loved staying with his sister for a while, it got awfully boring in her apartment. There will be times where she has to go to work, and then there will be times where she hits the streets and finds the holiday parties available near her. Really, there were only about three of them, and Mandy had invited Mickey to all of them, but he declined the offer in favor of watching shitty Christmas specials and completing a bit of the anger management sessions at a time.

The anger management sessions weren’t as bad as Mickey thought they would be. In fact, he actually learned a lot. There were a bunch of scenarios presented to him, and the site gave Mickey information on how to calm down and tips on what worked best. He even practiced some of the stuff he learned when Mandy wasn’t around just so he could get the hang of it.

Tonight, Mickey took a break from the anger management sessions to watch a random romance comedy he found on one of the stations on Mandy’s TV. They usually weren’t Mickey’s type of movies – he always thought they were cheesy and girly as hell – but he needed something to motivate him to get through the rest of the week knowing Ian wasn’t answering any of his voice mails.

Mandy had left her apartment almost two hours ago, stating that she had some errands to run. Mickey had asked her what kind, but she never said. Once he was comfortable in front of the television, though, all of his suspicions were long out the window. He just wanted to relax his mind and free them of intruding thoughts.

It was about seven forty-five when his cellphone rang in his pocket. “Yo?” he answered, changing the channel on the television to see what else was on.

“Mick, you decent?”

Mickey frowned. “Why the fuck would I be in my damn birthday suit?”

“Get the place ready and kid-proof. I’m babysitting.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The final chapter will be released on Christmas Day (I'm doing these chapters on the odd-numbered days). And I can't wait for Christmas and the new year. There's no snow here - just cold - which sucks because I want a white Christmas like the song says, but at least I don't have to worry about shoveling snow right now (but then I have to go back to school in early January when the snow will be all over campus, lmao).


	3. Please Come Home for Christmas

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, just a heads up. I wanted Mickey to see his sons again in this story, but I also wanted a resolution to Ian and Mickey's problem. I originally wanted to have a long last chapter, but when I started typing it out, I felt that it would be a little too long. So instead, I just added a fourth chapter, which will be the last chapter of the story. This is why chapter three is being updated today, just in case anyone asks.

“Papa! Papa!” Those were the first couple of words Mickey heard when he opened the apartment door about fifteen minutes after Mandy’s call. Max was the first person Mickey saw when he craned his head around and glanced down the hallway. The little redhead ran all the way to his father, wrapping his arms around him and holding him tight. Mickey never thought he would ever smile as much as this anymore.

“Hey, man,” Mickey greeted, his smile plastered on his face as he tightly hugged the seven-year-old back. Not even a second later, Mandy was coming down the hall with bags in her hands and a four-year-old toddler right on her heels.

“Papa!” Isaac cheered gleefully, running towards Mickey in a flash. He hopped on his heels as he waited for the exchange between Mickey and Max ended. When it did, Isaac jumped in Mickey’s arms and kept his arms around his father’s neck, allowing Mickey to pick him up off the floor.

Mickey swayed a bit as he held Isaac close to him. “Hey baby,” he greeted him, running a hand through his dark hair and giving him a kiss on the forehead.

Mickey hadn’t hugged his children in weeks, but it felt like it had been years. He missed them. He missed their tiny little voices and their general mannerisms. How Mandy managed to get them to come to the apartment, Mickey wasn’t sure just yet.

“Fiona called,” Mandy explained on her way inside the apartment. Mickey followed her, closing the apartment door behind him and carrying Isaac all the way to the couch. “Little guy was cryin’ because you weren’t there.”

“Is that right?” Mickey asked, concern spread on his face as he looked down at his youngest son. Innocent blue eyes shot back at him, and Mickey was already dreading to see another set of tears escape those youthful eyes.

“Auntie Fiona was having Christmas dinner,” Isaac explained, his hand grabbing onto Mickey’s white T-Shirt, “but you weren’t there.”

Mickey felt bad for all of this. It was his actions that led the children in this situation. They had only been in Mandy’s apartment building for two minutes, and already, Mickey’s hearing bad things that happened before then. A lot of families, especially South Side families, end up in that predicament, one of the adults leaving the house for whatever reason and the kids getting affected by it. Mickey thought it wouldn’t happen to him and Ian once they found someone to carry Max for nine months, but he was wrong.

Adjusting Isaac in his arms and rubbing his back, Mickey sighed and came up with the best explanation he could think of. He didn’t want to jump into anything too deep because they just got here, and he wanted them to have a smile on their faces as soon as it was time for them to leave. “Papa had some work to do around here,” Mickey explained, “but I was able to finish most of it today before you guys came over.”

“You did?” Isaac asked.

Mickey nodded. “In fact,” he added, placing Isaac on the floor next to Max, who had started taking off his coat and hat, “I wanted to give you guys something. I’ll be right back.” And with that, Mickey had made his way back to the room his sister let him sleep in.

Mandy had finished putting up the eggnog and other groceries in her fridge before returning to the living room and joining Max and Isaac on the floor with another bag in her hand. “You think Papa’s gonna love these guys?” she asked, pulling out a clear container with a red lid on it.

“Yeah,” Max agreed. “They’re his favorite.”

Isaac scooted over towards Mandy, taking off his coat and gloves and peeking through the container to find one of the holiday cookies he had decorated. “That one’s mine in there,” he stated, pointing to a Christmas tree cookie with a bunch of green, yellow, and red frosting on it.

Mandy followed his gaze and nodded. “That looks really wonderful.”

“What did he do?” Mickey called as he re-entered the living room with two wrapped boxes in his hand. He placed them down beside the coffee table and joined everyone on the floor.

“We made Christmas cookies for you, Dad,” Max explained, grabbing the container and handing it to Mickey.

“I decorated the trees and made sure you had enough frosting on them,” Isaac added, proud of his work.

Mickey smiled as he opened the lid and noticed about six or seven cookies inside. He could tell which ones were Isaac’s and Max’s respectively, given that he had watched them decorate cookies last year. The kitchen was a God-awful mess afterwards, but it was definitely worth it. “These look very good, guys,” he stated, grabbing the reindeer cookie Max decorated. “I don’t think I wanna eat ‘em anymore. They look so nice.”

“But you have to,” Max replied. “They’re your favorite, and we made them for you.”

This was one of the nicest things Max and Isaac ever did for Mickey. They were bound to have gotten help from Fiona, too, and she was the one who got Mandy to pick them up for him, so he had to thank his sister-in-law and his blood sister for that as well. It made Mickey feel more loved in a family than he did growing up.

“Thanks, guys,” Mickey responded with a smile. “These look really great.” He leaned over and kissed Max on the forehead before kissing Isaac on the temple. “I’ll make sure I eat one after dinner.”

“Oh, by the way,” Mandy stepped in, “Fiona made you a plate of food from the party and figured that you shouldn’t have to cook or anything like that.”

“She did?”

“I asked her to make a plate because Papa was gonna be hungry, too.” Isaac spoke.

“And Auntie Mandy took us to get you a present, too.” Max got up from his spot on the floor to retrieve the green and gold-stripped bag that had been abandoned by the front door. When he came back, he placed the gift beside Isaac on Mickey’s lap and returned to his original spot.

Mickey peeked inside the bag before reaching in for its contents. The first thing he pulled out of the bag was a card placed in a white envelope. When he took it out and opened it, he smiled again at the little Spiderman-themed card, looking at the design and the printed text for a second before looking at the handwritten note from Mandy and the kids.

_Thank you for doing everything for us, Dad. We have the best family ever. We love you. – Max_

_You’re one of the best Dads ever, Papa. Love you. – Isaac_

_I knew one of my brothers would make it out of that house and be the better Milkovich. So glad you’re my brother, Mick. And you make a great husband and father. – Mandy (P.S., The kids wanted me to write something, so I didn’t curse here.)_

Mickey got a good laugh out when he read the messages from his sister and his sons. His heart was swollen with so much love from his family. He wasn’t too big on the whole concept of Christmas, but if it meant making his family happy, then he was all for it. Making Max and Isaac happy was his number one priority. He’d do anything for his kids.

“You have another present, Papa.” Isaac reminded him, patting him on the shoulder, and Mickey placed the card on the coffee table in favor of reaching back in the bag for something clunky and hard. He pulled out a snow globe from the bag, squinting at the tiny Sears Tower figure inside. It was a snow globe of Chicago around Christmas time.

“It was Max’s idea,” Mandy spoke, “and I went ahead and paid for it.”

All these years, Mickey did everything to make sure that Mandy was safe and not a victim to their dad or any man in her life that would try to ruin it, and here she was returning the favor. She got him to sign up for anger management classes, took the kids off Ian’s hands and brought them here – Mandy did everything Mickey never expected of her, and now that Mickey’s here right now, he could honestly say how happy he is to have Mandy as a sister.

Mickey had been speechless for a few seconds. He swore he could feel the tears resurfacing themselves. “You guys are the best, man. I love you guys.” The old Mickey would have punched him in the face for being so emotional over a snow globe, some cards, and a container of cookies, but the new Mickey was lucky to have wonderful people in his family who cared about him, and that was all that mattered.

“You got presents, Dad?” Max asked, pointing towards the wrapped boxes Mickey had abandoned previously.

“Yeah, those are you guys’ Christmas presents,” Mickey asked, and the moment he saw Isaac crawl off his lap to retrieve one of them, he added, “but you can’t open ‘em up now. Wait until Christmas day so you can see what they are, alright?” Both of the boys nodded.

Silence came upon the four of them. Mickey and Mandy looked between Isaac and Max, noticing the sad looks on each of their little faces, and Mickey automatically knew what was coming.

“Hey guys,” Mandy spoke, concerned. “What’s wrong?”

“Are you coming home for Christmas, Papa?” Isaac asked after a minute with a hopeful glint in his eye.

Mickey had anticipated that question for the past couple of weeks, and even after he grabbed the courage to make things right and come up with the courage to do right by his kids, Ian still wasn’t responding to any of his phone calls or text messages. For a while, Mickey didn’t call Ian in hopes that he didn’t get too irritated with him in favor of working on his anger management sessions. Even then, Ian still didn’t talk to him.

If this was fate giving him the ugly truth, he definitely didn’t want it.

He picked Isaac up from where he sat, bringing the little boy back to his lap. “I don’t know, baby,” was all Mickey could say. He smoothed out some of Isaac’s hair and stared him in his equally blue eyes. “I wanna come home and see you guys open your presents and all that stuff. I really want nothin’ more than to be with my family.”

 _Family_. Mickey missed his family. Mandy was his family, too, but he also missed his kids. He missed Ian especially.

Mickey sighed. “But I don’t know if Daddy wants me back in the house or not.”

Another silence. Isaac’s shoulders slumped and, from the best angle he got of the little boy, Mickey saw Isaac’s eyes get a little wet. He reached down to grab his chin and lifted it so Mickey could clearly look at him. A tear had fallen from one of Isaac’s eyes, and Mickey used his thumb to wipe it away.

“Is…” Mickey started, but he was so nervous about the answer to his question that he stuttered. “Is Daddy doing fine at home?”

Isaac shook his head. “He wouldn’t let me see you.”

It was Max who surprised Mickey with a story from back home. “There was a holiday party this kid from my school was having,” he began, “and Daddy wanted Isaac to go, too, but Isaac wanted to see you that day. So he kept crying and begging Daddy about it, and then Daddy got upset with him and just kept him home with Auntie Fiona until he got back.”

Mickey kind of predicted that. Isaac was more attached to his parents than Max was, in addition to the one who needed the most attention. However, when he heard that Isaac was acting up when Mickey wasn’t around, it made the older Milkovich feel just as terrible as he did before. Isaac was supposed to have fun and be happy around the holidays, but with the turn of events that got them here, the game had officially changed.

Looking between Isaac and Max, Mickey scooted over so he could wrap his arms around each kid, their tiny, bright eyes casting glances at their father. “Daddy’s having a really hard time right now,” Mickey explained as carefully as he could. “You know, in between trying to finish work, getting you two to school, getting you fed and all that, he has a lot on his plate.” Max nodded. “I know this is all very confusing for the two of you; you’re just kids, man. You’re supposed to be…you know, livin’ life and all of that, but you can’t because there are problems going on everywhere.”

Mickey remembered being their age. In fact, his childhood was worse than theirs, being that Terry Milkovich was his father and that his mother was facing so many problems that led to her death. He didn’t want that for Isaac and Max; they were two South Side kids who deserved all of the love and opportunities they have coming to them, and Mickey will be damned if all of that was ruined.

“But it’s very important that you…give Daddy some patience,” Mickey continued, running his fingers through Max’s red hair. He paused, gulping as he referred back to a couple of weeks ago when all Mickey saw was glass shattering and the reddest pair of green eyes he had ever seen. Mickey practically cried himself to sleep every night as he thought about Ian’s outburst.

“It was all my fault,” Mickey explained, holding Isaac a little closer to him. “Ian was right. I should have been thinking about you guys instead of gettin’ mad about something from my past.” At this point, he wasn’t sure if he was talking to his kids or to himself anymore. The more he thought about it, too, the more guilty he felt for even shooting that man in the store, much less pulling a gun out on him. “I was so…so angry back there,” Mickey continued, his breath stuttering for a bit as he got a little more emotional. “I didn’t know what I was doing. I – I was so overwhelmed with anger, and I did the first thing that came to my mind.”

Mickey was shaking, the kids and Mandy knew especially. It wasn’t often when Mickey cried, but when he did, it’s like he had a hard time controlling it.

The man in question shook his head, focusing on the coffee table instead of the sets of eyes burning into his face. “Ian was right all along,” Mickey whimpered out, his hand shaking as it gripped onto the kids. “You two could have been hurt back there.” Mickey paused, shaking his head and feeling the tears in the back of his eyes, followed by the lump in his throat. “I – I can’t…I can’t imagine what would happen if…” Mickey took another pause. “Y-you could have been in front of the gun, and…”

Another silence fell upon them. Mickey couldn’t continue, for the reflection on all of his actions brought out his very vulnerable side in him. He tugged Isaac closer to him and leaned down on his shoulder, silently allowing the tears to fall one by one.

“Papa?” Isaac asked, worried after about a minute and a half passed as Mickey continued to cry. He didn’t get a response back, and it made the lump in Isaac’s own throat to grow.

Max got up from his spot on the floor and crawled over to Mickey, wrapping both of his arms around his father and comforting him as much as he could. This prompted Mickey to lift his head a bit and hug both of his kids at a better angle, still letting more tears come out. The thought of even losing one or both of these kids by a bullet was probably the biggest nightmare Mickey ever had. He knew Ian had those types of nightmares, too, because he even told Mickey himself that he didn’t want any one of them getting hurt.

There was one dream Mickey had when he and the kids were at the park and playing on the swings. Mickey only looked away for about a second after hearing a car horn from some random car, and when he looked back, a black figure was walking up towards him, aiming a black gun at Max and shooting his brains out before shooting Isaac in the heart.

That was the same night Mickey decided not to sleep until the crack of dawn came upon him.

Mickey remembered a few years ago before Ian was diagnosed with bipolar disorder. He had ran off somewhere for a while, and Mickey got really nervous about it, continuously texting and calling him to make sure he was alright. He had gotten into some dispute with a gas station employee, which got him into police custody somewhere in Indiana. When Mickey and some of Ian’s siblings came down there to pick him up, he looked terrible. He looked as if he had ran in a marathon for months without food or water, and it broke Mickey’s heart just to see that.

A few weeks back, Mickey liked to think that Ian thought the same thing when he saw Mickey exit police custody with regret written all over his face. However, Ian wouldn’t even look at Mickey at the police station. In fact, he ignored Mickey the entire time because he was angry with him for what all had happened before that phone call.

And Mickey definitely believed that he had the right to be.

Mickey held his kids tight and cried the rest of his tears until he gathered up the energy to speak again. He lifted his chin off of Max’s head and glanced at the two of them. Max looked like he was trying to hold everything in, and Isaac just latched onto Mickey like he was some kind of lifeline. “I, uh…” Mickey began, sniffling a bit and trying to compose himself. “Your aunt helped me find this anger management class that I can take on the computer.” Mandy scooted closer and rubbed circles on Mickey’s back for comfort. “Truth is, I’ve learned so much when taking this class. I didn’t finish it yet because there’s still some stuff to learn, but…you know, I found new ways to control my anger. That was the reason Papa did what he did – because he was angry.”

Neither Max nor Isaac chose to speak or even ask any questions, so Mickey continued. “I get angry at a lot of people sometimes,” he said, “and…I do things I shouldn’t be doing as a result, like hurting the man at the store we went to the other day.” Mickey paused to sniffle some more. “But Papa wanted to change that because he was hurting the people he loved the most, you know?” Max nodded slightly. “I did it for you guys. I wanted to show you that I can still be a good father.”

Mandy bit her bottom lip at that. Mickey was always self-conscious about his parenting skills, primarily because he grew up with someone who ended up being a bad influence on him. She always convinced Mickey that he was a good father, even after he and Ian brought their first born into their home for the first time. It was hard for Mickey to believe it, though, because he was always told how worthless he was, and it made Mandy upset to hear that being said to his own brother.

About a couple of seconds later, Max spoke up. “But you are a good father. You took me to the baseball game for my sixth birthday, and we ate popcorn and nachos and had a fun time.”

“And you scared the monsters under my bed every night and made sure they didn’t come back,” Isaac added.

“And you’re always taking us to school and bringing us bandages whenever one of us gets a scar,” Max said afterwards.

“And you make sure Daddy is happy and gets his medicine whenever he’s feeling bad,” Isaac added.

When the kids put all of that stuff together, Mickey realized the accomplishments he had made with his family over the years. Some of the stuff was all Ian’s doing, but there was some stuff he couldn’t do without Mickey. Hell, they couldn’t even have a relationship had Mickey not came out of the closet. He wasn’t the Dad of the Year or anything like that, but Mickey felt special hearing these words from the same two people that he’s raised in what felt like a short amount of time.

But Mickey wasn’t entirely sure that Ian would even take him back if he was here to hear these things come from his kids, let alone talk to him.

Mickey stole glances from both Max and Isaac, rubbing their arms softly. “Thanks, you guys,” he responded, his voice still a little hoarse from the crying moments ago.

He brought his right hand up to massage the back of Isaac’s head. “You wanna know something?” Max and Isaac frowned in confusion, and Mickey continued. “You two are the best sons a father could have asked for. And I know you wanted to give your old man some cookies and presents and all that, but…I’ve already gotten my wish for Christmas. I got my two favorite children in the world, your aunt Mandy, your daddy…” He paused. “I got everything I ever wanted, and that’s all that matters to me.” Max and Isaac nodded, hugging their father once again.

A couple of seconds later, Mandy had interrupted their hug to talk to Mickey. “Um, Mick?” Her brother’s head turned towards her. She glanced down at her phone and looked at the text message she had received. “It’s Ian. He says he’s going home, but he wants me to bring the kids back.”

Mickey’s heart began to drop. He didn’t want his kids to leave. He only got to be with them for a good few minutes of the day, and they already had to go back home. Sure, it was already dark outside, and the boys needed their sleep; however, Mickey wasn’t sure how long it would be until Mickey got to see them again. Would Ian even invite him back to the house on Christmas Day? What about after then? Would Ian want to even divorce Mickey before the new year came around?

Max turned his head and sadly looked up at his aunt. “We have to leave?” he asked, slumping his shoulders.

“I don’t wanna leave Papa,” Isaac spoke, gripping onto Mickey’s T-Shirt.

Mandy swallowed the lump in her throat at the two kids. “I’m sorry, guys. Daddy wants you in bed as soon as possible.”

Isaac didn’t budge. He just got closer to Mickey and kept his arms around him. “No, auntie. I wanna stay with Papa.” Mickey could hear Isaac being on the verge of crying in his father’s arms. As much as it was important that Ian got the kids home safely, he didn’t want his baby boy to be upset.

Max allowed his head to drop, reluctantly getting up to put his coat back on. However, Isaac was still seated on Mickey’s lap, continuing to whine and hug Mickey for dear life. Mickey just sat there and rubbed the back of his little boy’s back.

“Ay,” Mickey whispered to him, trying to calm him down. “Ay, peanut. It’s gonna be okay, alright?” He didn’t get a response from Isaac. The four-year-old just leaned his head against Mickey’s shoulder, fighting the tears he knew were about to come down his face.

Mickey grabbed him from under his arms and lifted him up a bit so he could get a better look at Isaac’s face. “I know you don’t wanna go home just yet, and I want to be with you and make sure you get sleep tonight, alright?” Mickey carefully asked him, and Isaac slowly nodded. “But Daddy needs you, too. Daddy wants to make sure you’re okay, too. You know that.”

“But I want my Papa and my Daddy to be with me,” Isaac cried. “I want you to come home and keep the monsters from under my bed and open presents with us on Christmas.”

Mickey nodded. He could feel his own tears coming back, but he had to be strong for Isaac while he was still here. “It’s very hard on you, I know,” he responded, adjusting him in his arms, “but Daddy and I just need more time to figure things out, alright?” After a moment, Isaac nodded. “We’re gonna make it work out for you, baby. I know deep down we can, but we also need you to work with us, too, alright?”

Isaac’s chin began to tremble at Mickey’s words. “Let Daddy get the rest he needs, and make sure he’s feeling okay before you speak to him. Just cooperate with him and keep from acting out. And make sure you sleep on time and use the night light I gave you whenever you’re feeling scared of the dark. Depending on what Daddy’s decision is, it might be a while before I can come back home to tuck you in for bed, but when we can work this out, it will be worth it, alright?”

Nothing. All Mickey saw once he finished speaking was a shaky little toddler in his arms with tears continuously falling down his face as he stared his father in his eyes. It broke Mickey’s heart into pieces at the sight of it, and he immediately wrapped both of his arms around Isaac, kissing the top of his head and rubbing his back as he heard the little sobs escape the boy’s mouth.

Mandy and Max were already dressed in their outdoor gear and ready to go. When Mickey looked up for a second, Mandy was holding Isaac’s coat and hat, preparing to dress the kid as they went out in the Chicago cold. Mickey almost didn’t want to let him go, but he knew he had to eventually.

So Mickey stood up off the floor and, after a couple of seconds, handed Isaac over to Mandy. The little boy began to cry a little louder when he realized he was no longer in his father’s arms. His face got redder by the minute, and it made Mickey’s throat sore from the growing lump inside of it. If this was the last time he would see Isaac and Max before the year was over, then it was a terrible way to end their visit, although he understands how they both are feeling.

“I’ll be back in a while, Mick.” Mandy whispered to him, and she bent down to grab Max and Isaac’s presents off the floor, putting them in a plastic bag as Isaac continued to cry in her arms. When she successfully got Isaac’s coat on, the three headed over to the front door. “Say goodbye, Max,” Mandy whispered to Max.

Mickey was left standing in the middle of the room, looking at the expression on Max’s face. He looked like he was gonna cry, too, and Isaac’s face was just soaked in tears. Mickey waved, never even getting the chance to actually say goodbye once Mandy had closed the door and left the apartment with the kids.

A minute after they were gone, Mickey had fallen back on the floor and started sobbing in his own hands.


	4. All I Want for Christmas is You

It was Christmas Eve in the Gallagher-Milkovich household. Things have been quieter around the house than they usually were, but Ian guessed that the absence of one member of the household was the reason behind it.

Max barely talked to him today, same as the day before. Isaac was still sad; he didn’t cry as much as he had been doing the past couple of weeks, but Ian could sense the sadness in his voice whenever he spoke or strolled around the house. Even when Ian asked the kids if they wanted to make a snowman out in the snow, neither one of them accepted the invitation. All of the Christmas spirit had been washed away within a matter of days, and it made Ian feel a little sad himself.

The trio had finished eating dinner, and once he was sure that his stomach was full enough, Ian had gone into the kitchen to grab himself a glass of water to wash down his pills with. He knew that, if Fiona had been living here, he would have to hear her get on Ian’s case about his medication almost every morning. It’s not that he didn’t love his older sister, but ever since he had been diagnosed, he wanted to get back on track and do things on his own.

Both Max and Isaac, already dressed in their pajamas, had been watching a Charlie Brown Christmas special on the television that evening. They barely reacted to the things that occurred on the screen like they usually did when the specials came on. When Ian went over to check on them, Max was eating a Christmas cookie and resting his head against the edge of the seat cushion while his younger brother slept with his head on Max’s lap.

Ian made a move to grab Isaac as gently and carefully as he could, and Max watched in silence. The sadness was hidden somewhere in Max’s face, and Ian felt bad that he and Isaac were acting this way around the holidays. If only there was a way he could cheer them up with what they had around the house…

With the four-year-old in his arms, Ian slowly walked over to Isaac’s room, where he placed the little boy in his bed and covered him up. Ian watched as his chest slowly rose and fell back to its original place. He was very peaceful when he was asleep. For the past couple of nights, it was completely different from this. Isaac would always wake up with tears on his face after having a terrible nightmare or some suspicion that a monster was in his room.

The taller redhead leaned down to kiss Isaac on his temple before walking out of his room and closing the door as gently as he could. When he returned to the living room, Max was watching the last bits of the Christmas special.

“Max,” Ian spoke to his son, “you wanna go to bed? It’s getting late.”

Max nodded. “I will, Dad.” He ate the rest of his Christmas cookie and stood up off the floor, folding the thick blanket that had been around him previously. Ian walked over and took it once it was folded as nicely as possible, preparing to put it back in the hall closet.

Ian wasn’t sure what made him do it, but he asked, “are you feeling okay, Max?” The mini redhead turned around at that. “It’s just…well, you wanted to go to Winter Wonderfest since you found out about it last month, and we do it every year. So when you said you didn’t want to go, it just…you know, caught me off guard.”

After a moment, Max shyly looked down at the floor. “Papa usually takes our photo in front of the decorations,” he explained. Ian nodded, understanding where this was going. “He would watch Isaac when you and I would end up going on those rides that are too much for him. Sometimes you and Papa would take turns. Now that he’s not here, I probably would be the only one riding some of the stuff. It wouldn’t be fun.”

This Christmas had to be one of the lowest ones Ian had with his kids so far. He could stay mad at Mickey for another year and still regret the effect it had on their sons. Ian wanted them to have a wonderful Christmas, but Christmas lasted one day out of three hundred sixty-five of them. Ian didn’t just want them to have a wonderful Christmas; he wanted them to have a wonderful life.

Ian made his way beside Max and sat down on the couch, his hair falling over his forehead as he processed his next few words. “I’m sorry that Christmas isn’t going the way you and your brother wanted without your father being here,” he began, rubbing his hands together. He felt guilty, like this was all his fault. Ian did that a lot, blamed himself for some of the things that happened. He loved his family, though – Mickey included – and when just the littlest thing goes wrong, Ian feels like it’s his duty to fix it.

Only this time around, he just made a bigger mess of things.

“You know I’m just thinking about your safety, right?” Ian asked, and Max nodded slowly. “I was so scared that one of you got hurt, and maybe I overreacted a little, too, but that’s how much I care about you guys. And Papa, he didn’t grow up in a caring family like you two did. He…” Ian paused, remembering the day Terry walked in on him and Mickey having sex on the Milkovich couch. “He had a lot of bad influences growing up, most of them coming from his dad.”

Max frowned. “Our grandpa?” he asked, curious.

Ian didn’t want Terry to be Max and Isaac’s grandpa. He didn’t deserve to be, especially after the trauma he put Mickey and Mandy through as children. He always wants all of his sons to be real men, yet he can’t behave like one to save his life. “No. He’s a bad man who doesn’t want your papa and I to be together. He’s hated our relationship since he found out about it, and he would do anything to destroy it. That’s why Papa and I found a place of our own, to get away from bad memories. It was the best decision anyway since we were discussing having children of our own.”

Max nodded, processing all of the information in his head. He didn’t know too much about the other Milkoviches aside from Mandy and Iggy, though Mickey mentioned some of them a while ago. Max never got the opportunity to meet Terry, but it was probably for the best since the monster would break his little bones into bits.

“My point is,” Ian continued, “I don’t want you growing up in a violent environment, and that’s why I kicked your father out. You two and Mickey are the three things that give my life purpose, and without even one of you…”

Ian didn’t want to think about that. The mental image of blood spewing out of Max’s head made Ian sick.

Suddenly, Ian felt a pair of arms wrap around his shoulders, the warmth suddenly coming over him as his son embraced him in a hug. The strands of red hair tickled Ian’s cheek a bit as Max nuzzled against his father. “Thank you, Daddy,” he replied, squeezing Ian a little bit. “I love you.”

Ian sighed, wrapping an arm around Max and hugging him back. “Love you, too, son.” They stayed like that for a couple of minutes before Max let go. “Get ready for bed, alright?” Max nodded, and with that, he was out of the living room and into the bathroom to wash up.

* * *

Both of the boys were fast asleep in their rooms around ten forty. Ian was awake and watching a movie on the television at a low volume so the kids wouldn’t be disturbed. It was just about to get to the end credits when his cell phone lit up on the coffee table. When he looked at the notification, he got a text message from Mickey.

 _I’m outside_.

Ian had texted Mickey halfway through the movie to come back to the house so they could talk. They haven’t done that in a while, and Ian felt as if he needed to iron things out with him. The day he got Mickey out of police custody, he just yelled at him when they got home, shouting how he didn’t want to talk to or see Mickey ever again. But if he learned anything these past couple of weeks, it’s that the problem can only be resolved if both parties are willing to compromise with each other.

The redhead turned the television off, ignoring the movie that was still playing in favor of answering the door.

Mickey felt like a complete stranger for standing on the front porch like this. Ian felt as if he was bringing a stranger into his house. The feeling was definitely mutual on that part.

Ian stepped out of the house to close the door behind him. It was cold as hell outside, but he would rather talk about their problems in private than have one of the kids potentially listening to their conversation, despite the fact that Ian sent them to bed a while ago.

“So…” Ian spoke, breaking the silence. “You wanna talk? Let’s talk.”

Mickey gulped, taking in the sight of his husband standing defensively in front of the front door. For weeks, he had been trying to make sure this went according to the plan, but when the real deal came, he stumbled over his own words.

“I had been thinking about what you said,” Mickey began. Ian didn’t falter. “You know, how violence isn’t the answer to everything and all that shit?” For some odd reason, Mickey had felt himself relax a bit, knowing that he started off the way he wanted to, at least. “Mandy had got me into this anger management thing she found online. She thought it could help with…you know, my anger.”

Ian nodded, his arms folded in front of his chest. “Did it?”

Mickey nodded. “I didn’t think much of it before, you know?” He shrugged, his eyes falling down to his boots. “Having to go to online classes and stuff to teach you how to not scare the living shit out of everybody.” A chuckle escaped his lips, although it wasn’t meant to be a hilarious comment. Ian didn’t move an inch of his body, and it was making Mickey really nervous.

Ian’s eyes trailed down to Mickey’s hands. His FUCK U-UP tattoos stood out in his fingerless gloves as he brought both of his hands together, rubbing them for warmth. “I know, like…you can’t see change overnight and stuff like that,” Mickey continued, struggling to grasp onto the courage that got him to speak. “I knew that if I told you about this stuff the moment I signed up for it, you wouldn’t believe it, and I wanted to show you that I changed for you and the kids. That’s when I stopped messaging you and…and stuff.”

Mickey waited a couple of seconds for a response that never came, and after that, he continued. “The gun…um, I –“ He ran a hand over his face, feeling like complete shit for behaving this way. “I called Colin and gave it back to him. I told him to throw it away, get it as far away from us as possible. After what you said, I didn’t really wanna see it anymore.”

Ian frowned a bit. “What did I say?”

That was when Mickey gulped. The night before, he had just seen both of his sons and their sad, innocent faces. The combination of that and a bullet wound gave Mickey the shivers. When Ian told him about the possibility of Max getting a bullet in the head, it started becoming one of Mickey’s biggest fears.

The raven-haired man felt moisture in his eyes as he stole a glance from his husband. “About the kids…” he started. His nerves got the better of him as he clarified himself. “About…them getting hurt…”

Ian scratched the skin on his arm and gulped a bit at Mickey’s words. The thought of that happening in general was just as bad as Mickey describing the hypothetical situation. He wasn’t ready for his kids’ funerals. They were only children, and they deserved all things good in this fucked up world.

“When we got married, Ian,” Mickey went on, “I was pretty fuckin’ nervous about…about how we would turn out. I was never the perfect person everyone wants to marry and stuff, yet you still chose me, for whatever reason. For the first time in my life, I felt like I actually mattered to someone, like I had a reason to actually exist.” He watched as Ian shifted back and forth on each foot.

“Dad barely cared whether I existed or not, and half of my brothers were barely around to show or even tell me how much they cared themselves,” Mickey continued. “Mandy reminded me so much of our mom before she passed away, and that’s why I hold onto our relationship so much. She was the one that kept me ground all this time and made sure I didn’t continue doing stupid shit.”

Ian nodded. He loved Mickey and Mandy’s relationship. It sort of reminded him of the relationship he had with Lip before he left for college and started focusing on his own life. Ian and Lip’s relationship with each other was way different from Mickey and Mandy’s. One could argue that it’s almost the same since both pairs of siblings get into rivalries often, but something about Mickey and Mandy’s relationship seemed a little more intimate – and not in the romantic way. They cleaned each others wounds, drank beer with each other in silence, and talked to each other like they were twins. No wonder Mickey loved being her brother.

“That day with the kids,” Mickey continued, taking Ian out of his thoughts, “that was my doing, Ian. That was _my_ doing. I’m not gonna blame my past for that, but I know it affected me somehow and got me doing these things. I just…” Mickey paused, shaking his head while keeping his eyes on Ian. “I don’t think before I act. I can admit that now. And even when I’m in the moment, I can’t…keep my damn head straight.”

Ian bit the inside of his cheek, his stance the same as before. “That’s why I married you, Ian,” Mickey said. “I married you because you balance me out. You…you’re like your meds to me; I need them to, you know, feel like everything’s at a neutral pace. If I don’t have you, then I’m probably gonna lose myself.”

To Ian, the meds were way different from Mickey, aside from the comparison he provided. When Ian found out he had to take his meds for the rest of his life, he automatically hated them. He didn’t want medication to make him feel normal; he had everything he needed and more.

And Mickey…well, when he married Mickey, pledging to be with him until death do them part, Ian had to be the luckiest man on the face of the earth, as cliched as that was.

“I’ll lose myself, Ian.” Mickey pleaded with a wet voice, slapping a hand against his chest as he took a step closer to Ian. “Whenever my head is somewhere from where you and the kids are, then I can’t focus properly. I lose control a lot of times. That’s why I wanted to change. You made me understand that, Ian. I wanted you to know that I understand.”

A second later, Ian felt himself shake just a little bit.

“I need you,” Mickey continued, stopping just an inch away from Ian. “I need you to help me help myself. I’m doing a little better on my own with this session and all of that, but I need you and the kids to feel complete. And I know you’re just caring about the kids’ safety, which was why you kicked me out, but I can’t feel whole if a piece of me is gone. You know that.”

The moment Mickey slowly grabbed onto Ian’s arms to release the fold so he could get to his hands, Ian continued to tremble, for the lump in his throat began to expand.

“You are the love of my life, as fuckin’ cliched as that sounds,” Mickey said, blue eyes looking into green, “and so are those kids. The day either one of them…or even you –“ Mickey paused, suddenly getting emotional over the possibility of Ian ever getting physically hurt. “The day either one of you guys gets hurt is the day I don’t want to be here to see. I promise you, Ian, I’m doing this for you guys. I love you all so much, and I never want to lose any of you in any way ever again.”

At that moment, Ian was a crying, shaking mess. How he managed to not let out a sound just yet, Ian wasn’t exactly sure. He continued to gulp, though the lump was well stuck in his throat, and he ducked his head in some hidden shame and sadness. That was Mickey’s cue to release one of Ian’s hands and bring his own up to Ian’s face, wiping off some of the tears and angling his chin so Ian’s eyes were looking back into his again. They stared at each other sadly for a couple of seconds, both drowning in their own tears, before Mickey closed the distance between them and kissed Ian on the lips.

Eventually, Ian added some pressure to the kiss. To be honest, Ian missed kissing Mickey. The last time they kissed each other was the morning of the shit show they had experienced that afternoon. He missed his Mickey. He missed the Mickey that would kiss him like this and bring satisfaction to his life.

Minutes passed, and the couple desperately kissed and grabbed each other wherever they could. It got too cold for Ian to stand outside with nothing covering his arms, so he pulled Mickey into the house and locked the front door. They had to be aware of the sleeping kids in the other room, so Ian dragged Mickey into their bedroom, locking that for good measure. When he was certain that the two were alone, Ian tossed Mickey onto the bed and shoved off his own clothes. Mickey barely had time to remove his own jeans and boots before Ian started doing it for him.

For the rest of the night, the two kissed and made love with each other, tears still etched on their faces as they relished in the feeling of each other once again and regained any and all feelings that had been lost within the past couple of weeks.

* * *

“What are we gonna do about the kids?”

It was about two in the morning on Christmas Day. Ian and Mickey had fallen asleep for a little bit after the sex they had hours before. When Mickey woke up unexpectedly in the middle of the night in his and Ian’s bed, it dawned upon him that neither Max nor Isaac know that Mickey was actually here.

Ian glanced down at his and Mickey’s intertwined fingers, tracing over the upside-down U tattoo on Mickey’s ring finger. “Just tell ‘em we got back together, I guess.”

Mickey shrugged. “I mean, we could,” he agreed, “but after what I did to them, I kinda owe it to them to make it special, at least.”

Ian was silent for a moment, his index finger stopping on a spot of skin on Mickey’s finger. “I think it’s me who owes it to them.” Mickey didn’t respond, but he gulped at the thought of Ian’s reasoning for even saying that. “I feel like I forced them to not even get involved in the first place – looking you in the eye, even – but ever since you left, neither one of them smiled even a bit.” He chuckled, though there wasn’t much humor behind it. “Max wanted to go to Winter Wonderfest all this time but turned it down.”

Mickey nodded. “I heard about Isaac, too. The poor guy must have been a teary-eyed fuckin’ mess.”

“I don’t blame him, though. It was kinda my fault, too.”

“Ay,” Mickey immediately spoke, leaning against his right elbow so he could get a better look at Ian. “None of this was your fault. I was a complete asshole who made the wrong decisions. I told you all of this.”

“Well, yeah,” Ian stated, “but even then, the kids still have a right to see their parents, too, and…well, I felt like I was doing whatever I could to take that away.” Mickey didn’t say another word as he stared deeply into Ian’s disappointed eyes. He took his hand and smoothed the red strands off his forehead before leaning down to give him a soft, loving kiss on the lips.

When he let go of Ian, Mickey wrapped an arm around his torso, tracing on his skin with his tattooed finger. After a moment, he spoke again. “I think I have an idea.”

* * *

“Daddy! Daddy!” Isaac called as he left his bedroom and went into Ian’s. When he got there, Ian was asleep by himself under the covers. Mickey was nowhere in sight. “Daddy, wake up! It’s Christmas!”

Ian pierced open his eyes and watched as an excited, dark-haired toddler bounced on the king-sized bed and crawled his way over towards Ian. The redhead sat up in bed and wrapped his arms around his little boy. “Hey, muffin,” he greeted him, placing a kiss on Isaac’s head. “Merry Christmas. Did you sleep well?”

Isaac nodded. “I didn’t drink any water like you and Papa told me to, because when I drink water at night, I might pee myself on the bed.”

“Yep, and that’s not good, now is it?” Ian asked, and Isaac shook his head. Ian brought a hand up and scratched the top of Isaac’s head just a little bit. “You wanna wake your brother up so we can open up your presents?” Isaac started to cheer again, and Ian’s heart began to swell.

“I’ll go wake him up, Daddy.” And with that, the little boy was out of the room. Little did he know, his other father was hiding away in the closet of his and Ian’s bedroom, listening to the sounds of an excited and carefree young boy waking up on the twenty-fifth of December.

Ian eventually got out of bed himself and started washing up and getting ready to make some breakfast. Once Max had gotten out of bed, the three hung out in the living room and dining room for the next hour and a half, eating banana pancakes and bacon before they dove into the wrapped gifts under the tree.

So far, Max had received a video game from Carl, a set of Harry Potter books from Lip, Avengers-themed action figures from Ian, an ugly Christmas sweater from Fiona, and a comic book-themed glove and hat set from Debbie. Isaac got the same sweater Fiona gave Max, along with a few movies from both Debbie and Lip, a Hot Wheels set from Carl, and Minecraft-themed Legos from Ian. All of the toys and whatnot was spread all around the living room area; Ian was surprised that they could still walk around with all of those Legos lying around.

Mickey was right the last time they got Legos for Max’s birthday.

“Hey, you guys,” Ian spoke, trying to not step on any of their new presents, “you got some more over here.” He pointed towards two wrapped gifts that looked a little different in size.

“Oh yeah,” Max spoke, getting up and abandoning his Hulk action figure on the couch. “Isaac, Papa gave us presents, too.”

His younger brother joined him and Ian by the Christmas tree, grabbing onto the box with his name on the tag. They smiled when they took the present out of the wrapping. Max had pulled out a Ninja Turtles-themed video game and some action figures from his pile, and Isaac retrieved the stuffed Michaelangelo doll and a Shellraiser Vehicle toy from his.

“These look really nice,” Ian compliment the boys’ new toys in front of them.

Isaac held up his stuffed Michaelangelo doll. “Look, Daddy. I got the orange one.” He spoke with pride, allowing Ian to take the doll and inspect it.

“He’s your favorite, isn’t he?” Isaac nodded, and Ian’s smile grew wider in response. “You wanna thank Papa for your present?”

“Yeah!” Isaac cheered, and Max eventually joined in.

“Well, we have to figure out where he is, okay?” Ian asked the boys, and they nodded. The taller redhead stood up and made his way out of the pit of scattered toys, reaching for the house phone on the table and dialing Mickey’s cell phone number. “Hey, Mick.” Ian spoke, trying to put on a show for the kids in the process. “Yeah, they got their presents. They wanna say thank you.”

Isaac and Max watched from afar as their father spoke to Mickey on the other line. “Okay,” Ian responded before hanging up, and that was when Isaac and Max were quick with the questions.

“Daddy, where is Papa?” Isaac asked with concern.

“Yeah, where is he?” Max followed.

Ian tapped his chin and focused his eye on something on the far end of the room. “Papa said that…he was here.” Ian tried to sound as confused as possible, preventing himself from giving the surprise away. It seemed to have definitely worked now that shocked looks were on his sons’ faces. “You guys wanna look around and see if you can find him?”

“Yeah,” the boys agreed, and they both got up and started looking around the house. Ian went into the bathroom, Max went in his room, and Isaac went into the kitchen. Ian wanted this all to play out the way he wanted it to, so he made sure he stayed in the bathroom for a good few minutes until either Isaac or Max got the hint.

Luckily, Isaac had made it towards his and Mickey’s room within a matter of seconds. Once the little boy poked his head into the room, his eyes locked with Mickey’s, the latter standing near the middle of the room with a big smile plastered on his face at the sight of his little boy.

“Papa! Papa!” Isaac immediately ran over to Mickey, who got down to pick him up off the floor. Mickey hugged Isaac as the toddler’s arms wrapped firmly around his neck, swaying a little at the embrace. “Papa, you came back!”

“I sure did, baby.” Mickey agreed, kissing Isaac on the cheek.

Eventually, Max came out of his room and spotted Mickey and Isaac in the center of the room. He immediately ran over to them and hugged Mickey’s leg, prompting Mickey to run a hand through his red hair. “Papa, you came back for Christmas!”

“I know,” Mickey said, “I couldn’t wait to see you guys.” He brought the boys over to the bed where he sat down with them and hugged them as closely as he could. He was oblivious to Ian standing in the doorway and watching the exchange. “I missed you both so much. I love my sister, too, but I needed to see you two again."

Isaac adjusted himself on his lap and looked up at his father. “Papa, you got us Michaelangelo for Christmas.” The sound of his son’s excitement made Mickey so overwhelmed with happiness.

“Yeah, I thought you two would enjoy that,” Mickey responded, rubbing Isaac’s back. He looked between Isaac and Max and sighed a bit, relieved that both of his sons were now content on Christmas Day. That was all he ever wanted. “I just wanted you two to be happy, and I thought I’d do my part and get you what you wanted.”

“Are you and Dad back together, Papa?” Max asked hesitantly, and Isaac nodded in agreement. That was when Mickey turned his head and noticed Ian slowly entering the room with his arms folded in front of his chest again. The taller redhead eventually sat down beside Mickey and Isaac, paying attention to Mickey’s response.

“We’re trying everything we can, man,” Mickey told Max, rubbing the seven-year-old’s arm. “It’s like I said before, we want everything to work out for you two, even if that meant making some changes to achieve that, you know?” Max and Isaac nodded, and then Mickey turned his head towards Ian. “I just hope that…you know, Daddy and I are on the same page.” Both boys turned towards Ian, worried for what Ian’s reply would be.

A smile suddenly spread across Ian’s face as he looked up into Mickey’s eyes, and Mickey felt his heart swell up again for the umpteenth time in his lifetime. When Ian whispered his next few words, Mickey could practically feel his heart beat out of his chest. “Of course we are.”

There they were. There were the same four words Mickey told Ian when he confirmed their relationship for the first time.

Mickey grinned at him, suddenly feeling a little giddy from Ian’s implied acceptance of him back into the household. His face got even warmer when Ian leaned in and kissed Mickey on the lips for a good ten seconds, causing Max to cover his eyes a bit. And when they released each other and heard the cheer from Isaac on Mickey’s lap, both men giggled and embraced their kids with all of the love they could offer.

It wasn’t the best Christmas they ever had, but it made the four of them closer than the ones before.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope everyone is having a wonderful merry Christmas (if you don't celebrate Christmas, then have a wonderful day), and cheers to a few more days of 2015 until we ring in the new year. <3


End file.
